CHAPTER 2:THE BOY WITH THE QUIET EYES
1418 Words
Aurora barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the burn in her throat again, felt her fangs pushing, felt the forest spinning around her. She saw hunters’ lantern light flashing through the trees, their blades glinting like promises of death.
By the time dawn finally crept across her window, she lay stiff under her blankets, staring at the pale light with a numbness she couldn’t shake.
Her alarm rang at six, shrill and unforgiving.
Aurora turned it off and sat up.
The girl staring back at her from the mirror was pale, far paler than usual, and the faint red rings beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She grabbed her concealer, brushing it on with practiced strokes. The motions were automatic, almost mechanical. Hide the shadows, mask the glow, pretend.
She tied her hair into a low ponytail and finished dressing in Moonlight Academy’s navy uniform. The blazer felt tight around her shoulders, like it was trying to contain too much.
Her mother knocked lightly on her door.
“Aurora?”
Her voice was soft, worried. “Are you awake?”
“I’m fine,” Aurora answered quickly, too quickly. “Just tired.”
The door opened, revealing her mother’s gentle face. Her eyes scanned Aurora’s expression, pausing on her exhausted gaze.
“You pushed yourself again last night.” Her mother stepped inside, lowering her voice. “You should not have gone near the forest. Your control …”
“I know,” Aurora cut in suddenly, the words sharp. “I know.”
Her mother sighed, reaching out to touch Aurora’s cheek. “You are stronger than this hunger. But you must stop wandering at night. Hunters are becoming more active. I don’t want you caught in between.”
“I said I know,” Aurora whispered, softer this time.
The worry in her mother’s eyes didn’t fade.
But she stepped back.
Gave Aurora her space.
Pretended to believe her.
Just like Aurora pretended to be human.
The academy courtyard buzzed with early morning chatter when she arrived. Students clustered under maple trees, laughing or sipping hot drinks. Their breath rose in little clouds in the cool air, and sunlight painted warm gold highlights across the buildings’ stone walls.
Everything looked peaceful.
Normal.
Nothing like the chaotic terror of last night.
Aurora slipped into the crowd, keeping her shoulders tight and her gaze lowered as she walked toward the main building.
“You look tired.”
The quiet voice halted her steps.
Aurora blinked and turned.
There he was.
Tyler.
He stood under the old sycamore tree near the entrance, arms full of books, dark hair tousled by the morning breeze. Unlike Philip or the other wealthy students, Tyler’s uniform wasn’t perfectly tailored. His sleeves were slightly frayed at the ends, and his shoes were worn. But his eyes …
His eyes were warm. Soft, curious, and always a little uncertain, like he knew he didn’t belong here but was trying anyway.
Aurora’s chest tightened.
“I’m fine,” she lied with a small smile.
“You always say that,” he replied, shifting his books. “But your aura looks dimmer today.”
Her heart skipped.
Aura? He can’t possibly be aware…
Tyler rephrased. “I mean your energy, like you’re tired. I didn’t mean to sound weird.”
She relaxed, a relieved breath slipping past her.
She hadn’t realized she had been holding it.
“It was a long night,” she said lightly. “Nothing serious.”
He nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced.
“Here,” he said suddenly, lifting one of the books he carried. “I noticed you dropped your poetry notebook during literature class yesterday. I’ve been holding onto it in case I saw you.”
Aurora blinked.
Her poetry notebook.
The one she never let anyone read.
She felt heat rise in her cheeks as she took it from his hands.
“You didn’t open it, did you?”
Tyler lifted his palms in surrender. “Your secrets are safe.”
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and tucked the notebook into her bag.
“Thank you, really.”
He gave her a small smile, shy but genuine.
Aurora’s heartbeat steadied.
For a moment, the exhaustion faded.
But then,
“Aurora!”
A loud, arrogant voice cut through the courtyard noise like a blade.
Her stomach dropped.
Philip.
Prince Philip Nicholas strode across the courtyard with the confidence of someone who thought every path existed solely for him. His royal crest pin glimmered on his blazer, and his golden hair caught the sunlight dramatically.
Several students turned to stare.
Some girls giggled.
Even the teachers stepped subtly out of his way.
Aurora tensed.
Philip stopped directly in front of her, ignoring Tyler completely.
“You weren’t in the study lounge this morning,” he said, tilting his head. “I waited.”
Aurora blinked. “I never said I’d be there.”
“You always are,” he replied, smirking. “Routine is important, you know.”
Tyler shifted awkwardly beside her, clearly uncomfortable.
Kael’s eyes flicked toward him with mild irritation. “Do you need something?”
Tyler stiffened but said nothing.
Aurora stepped forward slightly, placing herself between them.
“He was just returning something to me.”
“Oh?” Philip lifted a brow. “Is that his job now?”
Aurora’s jaw tensed. “He was being kind.”
Philip smirked again, as though kindness was a foreign concept.
“Well, if you’re finished with… whatever this is, we should go. The council wants me to lead the morning session, and they specifically requested you sit beside me.”
Aurora’s eyes narrowed.
She knew the real reason.
Philip wanted attention.
Philip wanted possession.
Philip wanted her because the royal family had begun searching for a bride.
And he assumed she would be honored.
But she wasn’t.
“I’ll sit where I like,” Aurora said calmly.
Whispers rippled around them.
Philip’s smirk faltered, just slightly, but then he recovered.
“As you wish.” His voice held an edge. “But do keep up. It wouldn’t do for you to fall behind.”
With one last dismissive look at Tyler, he turned and walked toward the building.
Aurora felt irritation burn in her veins.
Tyler let out a breath beside her. “Did he just…?”
“Yes,” Aurora muttered. “He did.”
“He’s intense,” Tyler said carefully.
That’s one word for it.
They shared a brief look; one filled with mutual understanding, frustration, and something softer Aurora couldn’t quite name.
Inside the classroom, Aurora felt Philip’s eyes on her the moment she entered. She sat beside Tyler deliberately, ignoring the prince’s stiff posture and annoyed glances.
The teacher began lecturing, but Aurora’s mind drifted.
Her throat still burned faintly.
Her body still ached from suppressing hunger.
And Philip’s attention made her skin crawl.
She needed space.
She needed calm.
A sudden spark hit her tongue.
Her senses sharpened.
Her head snapped toward the window.
She froze.
A hunter stood across the courtyard.
Not in uniform.
Not carrying weapons.
Just a man leaning casually against a stone pillar, staring directly at her.
Aurora’s blood turned cold.
He lifted a small device.
A sensor.
Her breath stopped.
No, no, no, no.
She looked away quickly, heart trembling violently. The classroom blurred for a moment as panic rushed through her veins.
Tyler noticed immediately.
“Aurora?” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard.
“Nothing,” she lied again.
But her mind raced.
Did he track me from the forest? Did I leave a trace of energy behind? Did he see me suppressing my vampire side?
Her skin prickled with fear.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not here.
Not at school.
Not where she had worked so hard to pretend she was normal.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Philip turned slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied her expression.
Aurora felt trapped between two dangers: Philip’s unwanted attention and the hunter’s suspicious gaze outside.
She pressed her hand under the desk, gripping her skirt to stop it from shaking.
She needed to calm down.
She needed to act normally.
Lysa verai… vanor ethel… suppressa…
She silently recited the chant in her mind.
Her pulse slowed.
Barely.
But the fear stayed.
The hunter didn’t leave his post.
And Aurora knew one thing with terrifying clarity: Last night wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
- Writer
